Of Slayers and Vampires
by Dion
Summary: Buffy is a 19 year old girl and has not been called yet. Her whole world is suddenly being turned upside down when she wakes up in a dark cell and not only faces her destiny...
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I owe nothing.

Panic had gripped her like an icy-cold, strong hand slowly strangling her throat. In her mind she was screaming. Screaming in such a high-pitched, quivering voice that all her other senses were numb from the pain and stress of screaming. Screaming might help. Release the panic. Either that or pull her forever into the dark, frightful abyss of madness from which there would be no escape. But the scream did not come. With every second that passed her panic grew and her senses improved, making her notice horrible, fearsome, unpleasant details of her surroundings she had not become aware of until now.

She crouched down in a corner of the vault, hugged her knees, pressed her back against the moist surface of the rough stone slabs that made up the wall and started slowly rocking forwards and backwards. Keep calm. Keep calm. Keep calm. Repeating the mantra was the only thing that kept her sane.

She knew she was not alone in this dark, musty cellar. SOMETHING was down here with her. How she knew, she did not know. There was no noise that made the presence known. There was only… something in the air, like a powerful vibration that could only be produced by the life-force of another being.

She could not take the silence any longer. The need to find out who or what was in the room with her had grown too strong.

Another bout of ice-cold fear crept up her spine. Who or what was in here with her. Why was she even thinking it could be a what? There were not "whats" she reminded herself. The boogieman underneath the bed and monsters in the darkness did not exist. If it was not a human being it could only be an animal. Great. It was no small animal, she knew that for the same reason she knew that there was another being in the room.

Silently praying it was another human being who was imprisoned just like herself she mustered all her inner strength and broke the silence, whispering in a croaky voice: "Hello? Is anybody here?"

The air shifted nearly imperceptibly.

She had its attention.

Now she could hear noises. The scraping of shoes on the rough stone floor and the rustling of clothes as if someone was trying to stand up. Suppressed moans of pain.

Peering into the direction where she suspected her fellow prisoner to be, she concentrated, blinked a couple of times and willed her eyes to adjust to the darkness surrounding her.

She finally could make out the silhouette of a man sitting on the floor with his back towards the wall opposite her. He seemed to be struggling to get up and somehow she had the impression that he was badly hurt.

Her body was shaking all over from both fear and the wet coldness of her prison. Her legs gave way when she tried to stand up and so she decided to crawl on her hands and knees towards the man. The floor was uneven and slippery with algae and icy wetness that seeped through the front her jeans as she made her way in the darkness towards the figure that was slumped against the wall.

"Hello?", she whispered, "Can you hear me? Are you alright? My name is Buffy. Can I help you somehow? Do you know where we are or why we are here?"

Buffy forced herself to stop asking the poor man questions. He probably did not know more than herself.

"Please, say something. Can you hear me?"

The man slowly lifted his head.

What Buffy could see of him in the gloom of the cell made her wonder how long he had been imprisoned.

His body was skinny and looked extremely undernourished. Skin stretched so tight around his gaunt face that his cheekbones were protruding, giving him a haunted look. Big cracks had formed on his dry lips and the dark circles underneath his closed eyes gave the impression that there were only two black hollows were his eyes should have been. Had it not been for the mass of short, wavy hair that fell across his forehead, she would have thought for a brief moment she was looking at a skeleton.

Shocked, she sucked in the stale air and braced herself, inching closer. A knot had formed in her stomach. Worry, anxiety, concern and fear all mixed inside her, intoxicating her. Adrenaline finally flooded her veins and with the additional energy she managed to reach him and crouch down next to him.

"Hey, can I help you somehow?"

His head was leaning against the wall, eyes closed. His thin arms were hanging slack to either side of his body. His legs were slightly pulled towards his torso; his position reminded her of the one she had taken up early when she had nearly lost her mind, rocking forwards and backwards.

But he did not move at all. It seemed to her that he had done the same she had done some time ago, but now he just did not have the energy to calm himself down that way. Not knowing what to do, she gingerly touched his arm to get his attention.

His eyes flew open, staring directly into her eyes.

And Buffy finally screamed.

Please review and let me know what you think so I can improve my writing skills. Many thanks in advance.


	2. 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of "Buffy" characters or TV show.

Waves of dizziness swept over Buffy, each one more powerful than the previous one and each leaving her feeling weaker, as if her life-force was being pulled away from her by some unknown higher power that held complete control over her body and mind.

"Concentrate", Buffy thought, "Concentrate on what is happening to you."

"Why can't I think clearly?", a frightened voice within her mind screamed.

Memories of images flashed before her eyes, invoking emotions of tremendous horror and confusion.

Those pictures made no sense whatsoever to her.

Darkness. A dark and moist cellar. There was a man. Hurt. And then, ... . Only a blur.

She partially remembered.

She was in some kind of cell.

But how had she gotten there? And why?

Memories of feelings crashed down on her.

The fear she had felt when she saw his face.

Whose face?

What had she seen? And why could she not remember?

She was losing control again and the scream that had already died in her throat tried to emerge once more.

Unable to scream or to form any coherent words, Buffy focused all the energy she had left to push away from wherever she was and what was preventing her from speaking.

She landed flat on her bottom in a damp puddle with her arms stretched out behind her, her hands propped up on the cold stone floor, supporting her weight.

In utter terror she scrambled backwards, away from whoever or whatever had just happened to her until her hands and back collided with the icy stone-wall, obstructing any further escape.

Full of panic, she clambered to her feet and spun around, her hands feeling blindly for an opening in the wall, a hallway, anything that would allow her to distance herself further from…

IT.

Whatever IT was.

Her memory was still fuzzy. She remembered a man who seemed to be weak and wounded and from that point onwards all she could recall was a sudden sharp pain and dizziness.

It did not matter right now. What was important right now was to find a way out of this place.

NOW.

In her blind panic she slid and pushed her small hands against the cold and moist wall, relying completely on her sense of touch as she could hardly see her hand before her eyes.

But small, razor-sharp stone fragments were painfully cutting her hands, causing small rivulets of blood to run down her palms. To make matters worse, the ice-cold water that was dripping down the wall was sending chills down her spine, freezing her hands and rendering them useless. She soon discovered that her urgent exploration had turned into an agonizing and excruciating task.

Not that it mattered.

There was nothing. No escape route. At least not on this side of this dank prison. Just moist stone blocks covered with slimy algae and tiny crevices where the stone slabs joined.

Buffy raised her arms and started pounding against the wall with her fists hoping that maybe her prison was not as solid as it seemed.

"I know you can be strong, but do you really think you can bring down such a solid stone wall?", a slightly hoarse, male voice chuckled, interrupting her vain attempts to escape.

"Trust me I tried. And I think I am a bit stronger than you."

She spun around, panicking once again, focusing on the direction the voice came from while trying to discern the figure in the darkness it belonged to.

"Who are you?", Buffy whispered hoarsely with trembling voice.

The chuckle turned into an evil, sinister laughter that seemed to mock her question as some kind of crazy hilarity.

"That is not the question you really have on your mind.", he scolded her and added "Besides, WHO I am does not matter."

He paused.

"To your kind, and especially to you, we are interchangeable. All the same."

Buffy's heart started pounding even harder in her chest after hearing his words. They contained such immense anger, hate and, yet, something else she could not quite figure out.

Resentment?

Either way, she could and would not care less. His arrogant demeanour only infuriated her. Adrenaline began coursing through her body and she felt her fear give way to irritation.

"What are you on about?", she shouted. "Why are you being so, so … . I don't know. Condescending and, and cryptic. That's it. Condescending. Arrogant. I asked you a simple question. I was concerned about you. And you go all weird on me. Anyway, what do you mean by all that? Who you are is not important? I don't understand. What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. Ask the right questions and you will get the right answers. But then again, you already know the answers.", he replied.

Buffy heard a soft thud as if someone had slumped down on the floor.

The voice began mumbling: "This is it luv. Welcome to the rest of your life. They must have given you to me to feed on. Nice of them, don't you think?"

"Feed? What do you mean by that? Are you crazy? Can't you just form one normal sentence that I can understand?", she cried, nearly losing her patience.

Then it hit her. The dizziness. Her memory loss.

The realization came to her like a bolt of lightning. Like discovering she had forgotten or not thought of one small, minute, but yet extremely important detail.

A factor that could change everything. Mess everything up. Transform lives or destroy them.

Too important to ignore.

Why had she nearly lost her conscience?

Something had happened to her. SOMEONE had happened to her.

HE. It had to be HIM.

She had nearly forgotten why she had been scared to death. Too much had happened at the same time.

Reflecting, she realized that she felt hurt, weak, drained. Drained of what?

Energy.

Her neck was sore. Alarmed, she touched the aching bit with her hand and could feel underneath her fingers a sticky liquid that oozed from two small puncture wounds.

Blood.

"What have you done to me?", Buffy nearly freaked.

"Now that's a better question, slayer. But I already gave you an answer to this question.", he replied, sounding tired and pained.

"What did you just call me? Slayer? What's a slayer? You are driving me insane!", Buffy yelled exasperated.

She leant with her back against the cold stone wall and whimpered: "Oh God, I've got it. This guy is crazy. Shit, shit, shit. Someone kidnapped me and locked me up with a nutcase. Probably some other lunatic. Why me?"

He sneered at her, chuckling softly at the same time, mumbling: "You are a slayer, you stupid bint. The Slayer. I could taste it. Don't act as if you don't know."

Buffy did not pay attention to his babbling, regarding it as nonsense. His previous words still echoed in her head: "Ask the right questions."

But what are the right questions?

"What the devil are you?", she suddenly inquired.

"Close, luv."

Annoyed, she snorted condescendingly: "Yeah, whatever. You know what, just forget about it."

All of a sudden he was in front of her. She had not heard him move, nor did she comprehend how he had reached her so quickly.

At such a close distance she could discern his face much better.

It was pale and thin and somehow reminded her of the mummy that had been found buried underneath ice somewhere in Europe. His skin looked like grey, thin paper that had been pulled tight over a skull.

Despite his frightening appearance she could tell that at some point in the past, when he had been healthy, his refined features must have made him very handsome.

"Look at me, slayer.", he whispered into her ear. His lips hardly touched her skin but yet the coldness they emanated caused Buffy's skin to erupt in goosebumps. "Tell me what you think I am."

She raised her head slowly and fearfully, remembering suddenly her reaction when she had seen his eyes for the first time.

Nevertheless, she felt compelled to oblige and looked at him straight into his eyes.

They were just eyes.

Despite the twilight, she could tell they were blue, bright blue, like a deep blue sea.

Many say that the eyes are the window to one's soul.

His eyes revealed so much about him to her. For a split second, she could read him like an open book.

Emotions emerged, then surfaced for only an infinitesimal amount of time as if they were trying desperately to keep from drowning.

Anger, hurt, hunger, pain and vulnerability.

They submerged as quickly as they had appeared and finally an ominous shadow seemed to cloud everything, preventing any emotion from surfacing that might dare to. Not only his eyes seemed to be affected by this threatening phantom shade but also he himself seemed to be controlled by whatever had clouded his eyes.

All of a sudden his eyes began somehow to change colour.

Little golden specks appeared out of nowhere, dancing like bright, flashing snowflakes across his pupils. Quickly the golden fragments had taken over completely the blue in his eyes.

He stared at her through golden orbs, that now again showed emotion. But this time the emotion was not human. It was somehow primal, feral and ferocious.

She shrank back from him, afraid of what she was seeing. Her pulse raced again and cold sweat was running down her temples.

His nostrils widened as he inhaled her scent. Her horror invigorated him, triggering the predator within.

"Tell me slayer. What am I?", he demanded seductively.

Then Buffy noticed. They had not been there before, she could have sworn. But then again, his eyes just had changed colour.

Canines. Two long, pointed teeth were framing the first four teeth of his upper jaw.

Fangs.

There was no other explanation. It was impossible but it was the only thing she could think of.

She gulped and whispered nearly inaudibly: "Vampire."

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